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Guerdon

To field and forest
The gifts of the spring,
To hawk and to heron
The pride of their wing;
Her grace to the panther,
Her tints to the dove. . .
For me, O my Master,
The rapture of Love!

To the hand of the diver
The gems of the tide,
To the eyes of the bridegroom
The face of his bride;

To the heart of a dreamer
The dreams of his youth. . .
For me, O my Master,
The rapture of Truth!

To priests and to prophets
The joy of their creeds,
To kings and their cohorts
The glory of deeds;
And peace to the vanquished
And hope to the strong. . . .
For me, O my Master,
The rapture of Song!

 

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